


Hearts Under Gravity

by rowofstars



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Angst, Blood, F/M, Mentions of Death, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-05-18 03:09:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5895805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rowofstars/pseuds/rowofstars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ten II and Rose in the aftermath of a tragedy. Hindsight's a bitch, and it's easy to blame yourself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Hearts Under Gravity

**Author's Note:**

> For the prompt "reckless" at timepetalsprompts on Tumblr. My first Ten II x Rose fic in literal AGES.

They’re all dead.

It’s her fault.

They’re all dead and it’s her fault. 

Rose knows she would be counted among the fallen if, once again, it weren’t for the Doctor. She’s alive, he’s alive, but it’s the worst day she’s had in a long time. It’s the sort of day where you wake up the morning after hoping it was just a bad dream but are sickened to find it really happened and you were there right in the middle of it.

She shivers and leans against the car window.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_It’s barely past seven on a Saturday morning and Rose knows the day is only going to get colder. It’s better to send in the first team now while they wait for backup to arrive than to sit in the biting wind as the rain to moves in. It’s all very routine anyway._

_The warehouse, with boarded up windows and heavy metal doors, has been abandoned since the second Cybermen attack, two years after the first invasion. Its contents are currently unknown, though it’s believed to be empty aside from whatever sent the distress call. She doesn’t want any agents getting hurt and the likelihood of the signal they followed actually being a serious threat seems unlikely. In a place this far out of the city, deserted and disused, it’s probably just a fatal crash landing or something that’s been reactivated by static charge or a power surge during the recent thunderstorms._

_She glances at the Doctor standing to her right. He looks up from a small handheld device, of his own recent creation, and eyes the wide door at the front of the warehouse in consternation. The device continues to chirp rhythmically._

_Rose blows air into her bare, clasped hands in a feeble attempt to warm them. “Anything?”_

_“Nothing,” he replies, frowning and poking at a small button on the side of the screen. “The readings haven’t changed. It just keeps sending out the same generic distress signal and no response to the message we sent. Whoever may be in there seems unable to respond.”_

_She nods. “Right then. We go in and get this over with before there’s nothing left of our weekend.”_

_“You’re the boss,” he says with a sly grin. She smirks back and strides over to the other SUV where the rest of the team is gearing up._

_A few minutes later, four Torchwood agents flank the main door of the abandoned building as two more make their way around the side to cover any rear exits. One agent reaches for the door handle, a young man named Adam, fresh out of training less than a month ago._

_A light rain starts to fall as the door opens and the team disappears inside. Rose folds her arms over her chest, gaze fixed on the warehouse. Waiting, a quiet shiver runs down her spine._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Traffic is heavy in the late afternoon and the car is barely moving. Horns sound intermittently up ahead, a sign of the general frustration of the day. Late October has brought the typical unsettled autumn weather and more than one round of storms. It’s somewhere between freezing and thawing but mostly it’s just uncomfortable, damp, and cold.

Rose fidgets in her seat, shifting her legs from being angled towards the middle and then the door, finally settling on straight. A few seconds later she crosses and uncrosses her ankles, smoothing her palms over the tops of her thighs, pressing against the wrinkles of her jeans. The dark sedan rounds a corner and the rain turns into steady downpour, the fat drops stabbing at the ground.

A block further on, the car lurches to a stop. A bus sits half in the middle of one lane, half in another and blocking the crosswalk, leaving all the vehicles behind it confused and stuck as a horn blares from a taxi. 

She leans forward to adjust the air vent and frowns a bit as she points it up and then down, slides the slats left and right. Seemingly unsatisfied she flops back against the seat, tucking her hands inside her sleeves. She stares out the window, watching the rain drip, blurring the world outside and wishing it would just go away for a while.

In the seat next to Rose the Doctor watches, concerned but silent. He knows there’s something he should do or say but he’s always lost when the tables are turned. He’s supposed to be the one consumed by obligation and tormented by the knowledge of being responsible for so many deaths. His conscious, even this wholly human version, is used to such burdens. To see them weighing on Rose twists in his gut and leaves his mouth dry, words sticking on his tongue. These were the things he always tried to protect her from, but in this world they seem to be her constant companions.

 

 

* * *

 

 

_The noise from the first explosion sounds like gunfire. Rose immediately reaches for the gun at her hip and starts a half run towards the building. The Doctor shouts something behind her that she doesn’t hear. The sound and shockwave from the second blast, however, is unmistakable. It takes a moment for her to realize why she is on her back on the ground. She rolls over in a daze, her first instinct to locate the Doctor._

_He’s on his knees by the SUV, ready to duck should there be any more, but his arm reaches for her. He’s shouting, but she can’t hear anything except a sharp ringing. His eyes are wide and terrified. For a brief instant they are both back in that stark white room, he’s screaming and she’s falling._

_Rose pushes herself up off the ground and scrambles to her feet. She breaks into a dead run for the warehouse, desperate to help her teammates. Stumbling over a few chunks of brick, she falls onto her hands and knees. Before she can get up again, there is a hand on her arm dragging her back._

_As she turns to object three more vehicles pull up forming a half circle. Numerous Torchwood agents spill out into the chaos as thick, black smoke rises into the air._

_“Let me go!” Rose screams, struggling in the grip of the Doctor. “I have to help them!”_

_“Rose you have to get back! Please!” The Doctor, his right hand on her upper arm, wraps his left arm around her waist and pulls her to him._

_She shrieks at him. “No! Let me go!”_

_Twisting her arm free, she gets one step forward before an older man with a beard rushes over. He takes Rose’s other arm and together with the Doctor drags her away kicking and screaming to the relative safety of the parked cars._

_“I need to be in there!”_

_The Doctor lets go and steps in front of her, pushing her back against the side of their SUV. His voice is loud and firm. “Rose you are hurt. You need to stay here and let us make sure you’re okay. The other agents can handle this.”_

_“But we have to get them out!”_

_“I know, love,” he says, one hand cupping her face the other holding her neck. He’s makes her look him in the eyes. “I know you want to help but you have to calm down and let me make sure you’re all right first.”_

_She scoffs and pulls his hands away. “I’m fine!”_

_Feeling something warm and sticky she looks down at his fingers. They’re covered in blood._

_Sometime later, Rose watches as the smoke continues to billow up from the remains of the warehouse in big, black puffs. It’s only mid morning but the sky is so dark from the smoke and ash it feels like it should be after supper. She winces as Vincent dabs the cut on her neck with antiseptic. It had taken a while for it to stop bleeding and this is the first chance he’s had to clean it up properly. There were a few survivors, rushed to the nearest secure hospital facility, though no one is sure how long they will last._

_She swallows and watches as he peels back the tabs from a wide bandage. “It’s my fault,” she mutters._

_Vincent looks at her sharply and lets go of the bandage to scratch at his graying beard. “You can’t think like that Rose.”_

_She says nothing and he goes back to work._

_Several yards away, the Doctor stands with his hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the building with that far off, thousand year old stare. Before, in what feels like another life and a lifetime ago, she had always wondered what he was thinking and feeling in those moments._

_Now she knows._

 

 

* * *

 

 

Sunday morning when the Doctor checks the bedroom door, it’s finally unlocked. He finds her sitting on the bed in the same flannel pajama bottoms and t-shirt she put on last night, legs crossed underneath her and chin resting on the pillow clutched tightly in her arms. It seemed like the medical check up and debrief at Torchwood had taken forever, and several times Rose had gotten so upset the agents had to stop and wait for her to calm down. They didn’t return to the Tyler mansion until late in evening, tired, hungry, and quiet.

Pete had known all about what happened, and he’d read the preliminary reports before they’d even left the office. Thankfully, he was silent on the matter, offering only a sympathetic smile and a tight hug for Rose. The look he gave the Doctor over her shoulder said it all. They both knew she’d blame herself.

He slept in what had been his room when he first came here, before they’d sorted themselves out and had a long overdue chat. Now the room is his work room, filled with tables scattered with all manner of broken down electronics and gizmos, half disassembled cell phones and a battery made from three potatoes and a yam. But last night she hadn’t wanted him around and he hadn’t felt much like sleeping.

Rose continues staring out the window, making no attempt to acknowledge the Doctor’s presence, despite his rather noisy sigh as he finally moves into the room. The rain picks up, falling at a sharp angle against the window like a gloomy reflection of her mood. Crossing the room with cautious steps, he stops and stands at the edge of the bed on the opposite end from where she is sitting, unsure of where to start.

“I should have been in there,” she says. Her voice is tired, raspy, and he tries not to think about how it got that way, the strained sobs and shouting left behind in an office at Torchwood.

“No, you shouldn’t,” he objects, moving closer. “ _Rose_ –”

She pretends she doesn’t hear him, glancing to the side to see that he’s taken off his suit jacket and his sleeves are rolled up to his elbows. “They’re all _dead_.”

He stands frozen, hearing his own words from another time and body echoed back at him, words and burdens he never wanted her to bear.

He sits and sighs again. “I know.” His hand slides towards her across the duvet, just in case.

“I’m scared,” she admits. Her fingers twist, digging her nails into the pillow. The blue polish is chipped and there’s a dark stain around two of her fingers. “I don’t know if I can go back. How can I face another team and let them put their trust in me when I let the last one down?”

He frowns. “You didn’t let them down, Rose.”

“No, I did worse. I killed them!” She sniffs and manages to hold back the fresh batch of tears. It’s amazing she has any left to fall.

He stands abruptly, spinning to face her. “You didn’t kill them! It’s not your fault!” 

She recoils at his outburst. He doesn’t mean to shout at her, but his frustration is getting the best of him.

Pushing back a stray lock of her hair, he sits again, closer, and leans in to place a chaste kiss on her forehead. “I’m sorry. I didn't mean to shout at you. But you have to accept that whether you were in there or not there’s nothing you could have done. If you had been inside when –”

His voice breaks, his mind adding another entry to the long list of ways in which he’s almost lost her. His eyes stray to her neck and the angry red cut left by the flying debris. There’s still a small smudge of blood under her ear, stuck in a patch of residue from the bandage. He won’t think about it being her blood even as his thumb skirts the edge of it lightly. Further down is a raised, red mark, uncomfortably close to vital blood vessels.

It’s then she understands how much this has affected him too.

“You should eat something,” he says, as his hand drops back into his lap. He’s still not sure what to do with this - with _them_. “It’s been over 24 hours.”

She doesn’t make any attempt to move apart from one shoulder lifting in a shrug.

The Doctor huffs. “ _Rose_ -”

“ _Don’t_ ,” she says firmly. “Don’t tell me anything’s going to be okay because you know as well as I do it’s _not_.”

He reaches for her, brushing her fingers, and she gives him her hand without protest. “Rose, listen to me,” he pleads, then he takes a breath and squeezes her hand. “You can blame yourself, if you want to, even though it will never be your fault. It’s easy to do because you think there’s something _you_ could have done differently, something _you_ missed, something that only _you_ could have seen.”

His eyes shift up from the strips on the sheets to meet her eyes, finding them bright and wet at the edges with tears. She squeezes his hand back. He is not talking about her.

“I know,” Rose says after a moment, her voice quiet and still a bit rough. “‘S hard.”

He smiles and shifts to sit cross legged on the bed, and she finally moves to sit up.

“Does it ever -?” she starts to ask, and then stops, looking down at the hem of her pajama pants.

“Get easier?” he finishes for her. She nods and then he shakes his head. “No. Why do you think I kept traveling.”

He gives her a half smile, intending it to be at least a bit self deprecating, but it doesn’t quite work. In a manner of seconds, she’s in his arms, sobbing into his shirt, and it’s all he can do to keep his arms around her while she’s shaking. He mumbles affirmations into her hair, kisses the top of her head, and lets his hand glide up and down her back until she’s calm again.

“Better?” he asks, pressing his lips to her temple.

She shakes her head. “No. Is it s’posed to be?”

He shrugs but doesn’t let go of her as he stares out the window at the darkening sky. “I don’t know, to be honest.” 

“Stay with me for a while?” she asks, letting her head drop to his shoulder.

He nods.

After a moment, he stands, undoing the buttons of his dress shirt before shrugging it off, and then removing his shoes and trousers. She scoots to the middle of the bed and lays down facing the window. Sliding up behind her, he curls an arm over her side, pulling her flush against his chest. He can feel both their heartbeats, like two in his chest. She sighs, and he knows she can feel it too.

It's like being whole again, for now.


End file.
